


Content

by akapolarbear



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: ? yeah there's cuddling i guess, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, because basically nothing happens, it's like seinfeld but gay, this is basically just a lot of soft quiet feelings, uhhh guys this is a really hard fic to tag for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akapolarbear/pseuds/akapolarbear
Summary: The honeymoon phase always has to end eventually.(Though, that's not necessarily a bad thing.)





	Content

**Author's Note:**

> "Holy cow, Polar, chill, it's barely been a week since your last fic! Slow down!"
> 
> but it's nanooooo and i need immediate validation for the things i writeeeeeee

There are two distinct sources of background noise Byakuya has to deal with as he goes about the mind-numbingly dull task of scrolling through his phone to clear out his work email inbox. The first is the near-muted sound on the television, left on by the person who was actually watching it, but then quieted to almost silence by Byakuya himself when the attention of the one who had been watching it had drifted elsewhere.  
  
The second is the subtle, but very much still there sounds of snoring from the man currently pressed up against his chest. Originally, Makoto had been laying against Byakuya's arm while he indulged in his late-night television binge and Byakuya busied himself with his phone. However, at some point - Byakuya can't entirely recall when or how - Makoto's position had shifted from 'laying next to him on the couch' to 'sitting on his lap'. Then, some point after adopting this new positioning, Makoto began to doze off before inevitably dropping off the face of the conscious realm entirely.  
  
If Byakuya felt the need to, he would have very little issue in rousing the other man, whether it be via calling out to him, shaking him awake, or even just pushing him off entirely. Yet instead, in the reality of the situation, he's already done quite the opposite, one arm wrapped protectively around his boyfriend's waist with his hand having found its way under Makoto's T-shirt to rest against his bare abdomen.  
  
He's aware he'll have to get up at some point; they can't stay like this forever. Though Makoto's shown he has no qualms about falling asleep just about anywhere, Byakuya refuses to subject himself to sleeping on a couch, not when he has a perfectly acceptable bed waiting for him in their room. At some point, he'll have to go to sleep. But for now, he sees no issues with allowing them to stay like this for just a little while longer. After all, he's in no rush; he's only halfway through his inbox so far.  
  
But of course, all things must come to an end. Makoto's subconscious must decide that boyfriends don't make for particularly comfortable pillows and after a few semi-conscious murmurs and groans, Makoto's eyes are fluttering awake. It takes him some time before he's entirely rejoined the waking world, blinking blearily and letting out a yawn that ends in a squeak. Byakuya says nothing, willing to allow him as much time as he needs to fully readjust to being awake.  
  
Finally, after a few more slow, not-entirely-there-yet blinks, Makoto turns his sleepy hazel gaze on Byakuya and mumbles just loudly enough to hear, "...What time is it?"  
  
Byakuya's eyes flick to the time display at the top of his phone's screen. "10:26."  
  
"Oh." Makoto pauses. "I have to pee."  
  
Byakuya wordlessly releases his grip on Makoto's waist, giving him the unspoken permission to go ahead, as if Makoto needed permission to go to the bathroom. The smaller man slides off his lap, rubbing the haze out of his eyes and yawning once more before trudging his way off towards the bathroom. At first, Byakuya is perfectly fine to continue his ridiculously boring, but unfortunately necessary work until Makoto returns, but the absence of warmth and pressure curled into him clues him into a spot of dampness on his chest that he's sure wasn't there before.  
  
A glance down at his white button-up confirms a small spot of wetness on his right. It doesn't take much thought to figure out the cause; Makoto has the unfortunate habit of drooling in his sleep.  
  
With a sigh, Byakuya sets down his phone on the coffee table and sets to work unbuttoning his shirt because no, he absolutely refuses to just sit here and ignore the fact that, whether it was intentional or not, his boyfriend essentially _slobbered_ on him. By the time he gets the last button undone, Makoto's already making his return from his quick bathroom break, just in time to see Byakuya half-undressed in their living room. "Uh, what are you doing?"  
  
At one point in their relationship, the current scenario would be enough to turn Makoto into a stuttering, blushing mess. But when Byakuya looks up to see him waiting at the bottom of the stairs, there is no flush of red staining his cheeks, only a look of blank, tired confusion.   
  
"You drool in your sleep," Byakuya replies flatly as he displays the darkened blotch staining his otherwise crisp, clean shirt.  
  
"Oh," Makoto says, scratching at the back of his neck, "sorry."  
  
Byakuya waves off the apology as he folds his shirt under his arm. It's a minor slight that Makoto had no control over; he sees no reason to hold it above his boyfriend's head like it's something that actually matters in the grand scheme of things. "I need to go drop this in the hamper, as well as find a clean shirt to put on," Byakuya says instead, rising from the couch.  
  
Makoto makes way for him to move past and head upstairs to the bedroom, but as he passes by, Makoto calls out, "Hey, I was gonna grab something to eat real quick before bed; do you want me to get you anything from the kitchen while I'm there?"  
  
"No need," Byakuya answers, already halfway up the steps, "I'm fine without."  
  
The state of their bedroom is...acceptable, Byakuya supposes. It certainly has a lived-in feel to it, if "lived-in" is a polite way of saying that it's clear that one of the room's two inhabitants has poor habits of picking up after himself. Yes, it's true that perhaps Makoto isn't the messiest man in the world, but as Byakuya sets his saliva-stained shirt in the dirty clothes hamper, he can't help but note the little things, like the wrinkles in the comforter despite Makoto being tasked with making the bed that morning or the fact that there are a few dirty socks strew out on the floor.   
  
He debates leaving them there for Makoto to pick up because after all, they're not his socks and, as such, not his responsibility. But he inevitably buckles, dropping to a crouch to collect them, because yes, they might not be his responsibility, but _someone_ has to be the responsible one in this relationship and Makoto's clearly proven that, at least when it comes to the matter of dirty socks, he is _not_ the responsible one in this relationship.  
  
After making sure at the very least that the socks are a matching pair, Byakuya drops them in the hamper as well and muses that they'll probably have to do laundry soon at this rate. That's a matter to file away for later, at any rate. No, what's important now is getting a shirt on his back. He pulls open one of the drawers to the dresser, where his shirts should be stored, but in reality, it's become a sort of joint storage drawer for both his and Makoto's upper body wear.  
  
It isn't like Makoto didn't have his own relegated drawer. Rather, the issue is that Makoto had a poor sense of time when it came to needing to get ready. He panicked, floundered to get dressed when he knew he needed to be out the door in less than ten minutes, and it led to the issue of clothes getting swapped and put back in the wrong places. It also just happened that Makoto was the type of boyfriend to steal pieces of Byakuya's clothing and then inadvertently osmose them into his own wardrobe. Byakuya for the life of him couldn't understand _why_ \- some of Makoto's own clothes already ran half a size too big on him to begin with, what point was there in taking clothes that would make him look like a child playing dress-up in his father's closet? - but Makoto insisted, probably claiming to get some sort of security out of Byakuya's scent on them. But if that truly was the case, Byakuya would honestly rather Makoto just steal his cologne instead of entire pieces of his suits.  
  
After picking through a graphic tee that in no life would he ever wear and a hoodie that's much too small for him, Byakuya's finally able to come across a casual baby blue dress shirt that yes, does actually belong to him - one of the few shirts Makoto's decided he's allowed to keep, it seems. He does up all the buttons except for the topmost one, allowing the collar to sit open a bit, and loosening his cuffs for the sake of comfort. Yes, it isn't the corporate perfection he's come to make sure people associate with the name "Byakuya Togami" over the years, but it's late, he's in the comfort of his own home, and the only person who'll be seeing him like this tonight has already seen him in various states of undress, up to and including naked, so there's hardly any issue here.  
  
Speaking of the man he's chosen to call his other half - not his _better_ half because, for as much as Makoto has going for him, Byakuya will never claim him to be better in any sense of the word. Kinder, perhaps, yes, but not _better_. Never _better_. - Byakuya comes downstairs just at the right moment to find Makoto seating himself on the couch with the jar of peanut butter from one of the kitchen cabinets and a spoon. Case in point, a perfect example of why Makoto was _other_ , not _better_.  
  
He steps around the back of the couch before Makoto's even gotten the lid unscrewed and takes the jar from his hands, drawing immediate protest from Makoto himself. "Wh - c'mon, give it back!"  
  
"Absolutely not, no," Byakuya answers and when Makoto twists around in his seat to reach for his "snack", Byakuya uses the height advantage he's always had over his boyfriend to his favor.  
  
Makoto stretches to retrieve the jar nonetheless, knowing full well that it's a fruitless effort because 5'3 has never had anything on 6'1 and he's learned that lesson multiple times over the course of their relationship. He struggles and flails at it for a little bit before eventually giving up with a huff and a pout. "Why not?"  
  
Byakuya wrinkles his nose at just how determined Makoto apparently is to shovel spoonfuls of peanut butter straight out of the jar and into his mouth. "Because you're disgusting, just go make yourself a _sandwich_."  
  
"I don't want a sandwich," Makoto says, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest with his shoulders drawn up, "I want peanut butter."  
  
Byakuya rolls his eyes at the childlike simplicity of that statement and Makoto's obstinate refusal to just go out into the kitchen and get actual food instead. After a while, with no sign of Makoto's will breaking or wavering, Byakuya sighs and all but drops the jar back into Makoto's lap. Makoto almost drops his prize in the attempt to catch it, but he does at least make a sound along the lines of gratitude when it's safely back in his hands.   
  
Byakuya sees no need to respond and so he doesn't, just reclaims his seat on the edge of the couch and grabs his phone off the coffee table. He's determined to finish sorting through these emails before allowing himself to go to bed because if he doesn't, his inbox will only get more bloated, the problem is only going to get worse, and Byakuya has enough stress to deal with in his life already. Makoto, on the other hand, his only stress to deal with tonight, it seems, is to get the lid unscrewed from his peanut butter jar. He struggles with it for a bit, whining a little when the lid doesn't pop off immediately, and then almost meekly asks, "...If I give this to you to open for me, will you promise to give it back once the top's off?"  
  
Byakuya's only answer is to wordlessly hold his hand out while the other continues scrolling through his phone, eyes not once looking up or over in Makoto's direction. Makoto must trust him enough to take that as a "promise" and hands the jar over. As soon as the peanut butter is in hand, Byakuya momentarily rests his phone on the arm of the couch and then, using the sleeve of his shirt to give him some purchase, gets the lid off with minimal force applied.  
  
Makoto gapes, apparently struggling to find his words.  
  
"If you say that you loosened it for me, I won't believe you," Byakuya says before he gets the chance.   
  
Honestly, he does have half a mind just then to screw the lid back on and then return it to the kitchen cabinet where it belongs, on the grounds that, _technically_ , he never actually promised to give it back. But he's sure that if he does, Makoto will just whine at him and call him a jerk, and really, he's too tired and busy to deal with that at the moment. Besides, if he does, Makoto would probably just get it back from the kitchen and then lock himself with it in the bathroom, if he really wanted his peanut butter that badly.  
  
So instead, he just passes the jar back with the lid sitting loose on top, getting a sheepish, "Thank you," from Makoto in return, and then gets back to his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Makoto scoop out a spoonful of peanut butter and then reach for the remote once the spoon is in his mouth. The television's volume comes back up, not to an obnoxiously loud level, but just enough for Byakuya to be reminded, ah, right, it was on to begin with.   
  
"Why were you watching TV with the volume so low?" Makoto asks with some difficulty through a mouthful of peanut butter.  
  
"I wasn't," Byakuya replies. "I turned it down because I'm working."  
  
Just like that, it seems to click for Makoto that Byakuya isn't on his phone for leisurely purposes. The remote is back in his hand, pointed back at the television and prepared to fix his mistake. "Oh, I - I'm sorry, I'll turn it back down, I didn't realize..."   
  
"No, it's fine." It'll take him a little extra doing to tune out the background noise, but this is mostly busy work at this point - awful and agonizingly _boring_ busy work, but...mindless, mechanical, and simple enough for him to get through. "I'm just about finished here anyway."  
  
Taking that as permission to continue watching whatever's even on this late at night, Makoto puts the remote back down on the coffee table, but not before taking the television's volume down just a few notches, and then gets himself another scoop of peanut butter. A few minutes later and he's back to being pressed against Byakuya's arm because Makoto always seems to be most comfortable on quiet nights like these when he's as close to Byakuya as he's allowed.  
  
There's no feeling of sparks or electricity along his skin when Byakuya thinks about their close proximity. The pressure of Makoto's head resting against his arm doesn't cause a tingle down his spine or warmth to blossom in his chest. It did, at one point, when the very thought of being able to have Makoto this close to him every single night excited him and made his heart pound faster. But those days in their relationship have long since disappeared.  
  
The concept of the "honeymoon phase" and its inevitable end had always...scared Byakuya. Not that he would ever say as much out loud, because Byakuya Togami is not meant to feel scared and so god forbid he ever admit to _any_ fear, let alone one as childish as this. But...he knew the type of person he was; restless, easily bored, in need of constant stimulation. If something does not enrapture him entirely or it isn't a necessary evil, then it isn't worthy of his time and gets cast aside, because he cannot stand pointless endeavors.  
  
And the thought, the very idea that one day, he would get _bored_ of Makoto and their relationship and be forced to throw them away like so many other things that had failed to hold his attention for very long...it had terrified him.  
  
And now here they are. Their "honeymoon phase" ended some time ago.  
  
Yet...  
  
Byakuya deletes the last of his emails and breathes a quick, quiet sigh of relief at the sight of a clean inbox. Makoto rolls his shoulders as he sucks on his peanut butter coated spoon. Byakuya's finally able to tuck his phone back into his pocket and then drapes his arm across Makoto's form, who responds in kind by squirming even closer.  
  
Byakuya now knows he has nothing to be scared of. What he's feeling right now? This isn't boredom.   
  
This is content.

**Author's Note:**

> eating peanut butter out of the jar is gay culture, i don't make the rules


End file.
